Meryl's Notes Blog

Write Funny: 3 Timeless Rules of Comedy That Every Writer Should Learn

Our guest blogger is Jamie Grove of How Not to Write. However, he means the opposite… he knows how to write and does it well as you can tell from this entry. Thank you, Jamie. We’ve known each other a short time, but it feels longer as he’s easy to talk to and get to know.

Write Funny: 3 Timeless Rules of Comedy That Every Writer Should Learn

“The more you explain it, the more I don’t understand it.”
– Mark Twain

When people say I’m funny they generally mean one of two things…

“You should read some of his work. It will make you laugh.”

– or –

“You should watch him get out of the shower. It will make you laugh.”

This poor example demonstrates that deliberately trying to be funny is often the surest route to not being funny. However, the point was to provide a basis for a relatively simple example of the three timeless principles of comedic writing: Inversion, Repetition, and Reciprocal Interference. While learning the fundamentals of these these principles, you will also learn that in trying to describe comedy by disassembling a joke we often render it completely unfunny.

Henri Bergson (1859-1941) Author, Philosopher, Nobel Laureate… Decidedly not funny, though perhaps he plays better in Swedish. From the 1927 Nobel Prize in Literature: “In recognition of his rich and vitalizing ideas and the brilliant skill with which they have been presented.”

In 1900, French philosopher Henri Bergson published the unfunniest book ever written on the nature of comedy and the human condition, Laughter: An Essay on the Meaning of the Comic. Here’s a rather impenetrable sample typical of Bergson:

“Life presents itself to us as evolution in time and complexity in space. Regarded in time, it is the continuous evolution of a being ever growing older; it never goes backwards and never repeats anything. Considered in space, it exhibits certain coexisting elements so closely interdependent, so exclusively made for one another, that not one of them could, at the same time, belong to two different organisms: each living being is a closed system of phenomena, incapable of interfering with other systems. A continual change of aspect, the irreversibility of the order of phenomena, the perfect individuality of a perfectly self-contained series: such, then, are the outward characteristics–whether real or apparent is of little moment–which distinguish the living from the merely mechanical. Let us take the counterpart of each of these: we shall obtain three processes which might be called REPETITION, INVERSION, and RECIPROCAL INTERFERENCE OF SERIES. Now, it is easy to see that these are also the methods of light comedy, and that no others are possible.”

I tried my best to find a shorter sample, but Bergson goes on like this for about 42,000 words. If he hadn’t been awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1927, you’d swear his book was a parody. In any case, I’ll spare you further pain of trying to figure out what “reciprocal interference of series” means and simply call it comedic paradox.

According to Bergson, a comedic paradox is any situation which exists simultaneously within two independent series of events and is capable of being interpreted in two entirely different meanings at the same time. While according to my wife, there is no question that my second example is far superior to the first, because it is obvious to her that a body like mine was designed by someone with a fine sense of humor.

(Note: That was a demonstration of Comedic Paradox.)

In the paragraph above, I reintroduced the opening joke and bolted it onto the intellectual discourse of Henri Bergson. Bergson would probably argue that this isn’t truly comedic paradox, but I disagree. Comedic paradox makes us laugh because our brains fail to sort out the confusion inherent in the change of context. Eventually, there is little choice but give up and laugh.

Stand-up comedians also leverage comedic paradox. During a set, the same joke will appear several times but worked into different situations. Comedians do this because it’s easy to make an audience laugh at the same joke twice. I prove this to the world every morning when I get out of the shower.

(Note: That was a demonstration of Repetition.)

Of course, the key to creating the joke in the first place is inversion. Inversion is the reversal of expected roles. For example, the quote from Mark Twain at the start of this article is funny because he reverses the first half of the phrase in the second half. Unfortunately, when applied to my running joke, I do find that inversion is what put me in this awkward situation in the first place.

(Note: That was a demonstration of Inversion, Repetition and a stretch for Comedic Paradox.)

Speaking of repetition, here are the basic rules in non-Bergson speak:

Inversion – To find the funny, flip the idea backwards. It’s easy once you practice.

Repetition – Once you find the funny, make with it again and again until it is no longer funny. You’ll be surprised how long you can go if you apply inversion.

Comedic Paradox – Mash up the funny with the not so funny to create a third funny, which technically should not exist. Sometimes this works and sometimes not. Paradoxes are like that.

Suppose being funny is un-stressing, like a detonation of a ‘tonation’ (Bergson’s terms). Then what we must do as living beings, to irreversibly deal with the perfectly organized (biological) reality, as an order given to the mind, now can for a moment relax, just becáuse that reality itself asks for it or allows it. And we need it too, again as I understand Bergson: our intuitions constantly seek the best match of what we sense and what we know. This constant calibration can at times be tiring so that we like to be loosened up.

@Mathew I think that’s the most ironic thing about Bergson. It is basically impossible to acquire funny by reading his work.

@Ron basically sums up what funny is in his comment: the release of tension. This is why so many comedians/funny people live rather tortured lives.

I’m actually wondering at this point whether I could possibly make funny sound more depressing. I’m mean, it’s raining here at the moment and I suppose I could put up a picture of me being mauled by ferrets.

I used to do shows as a professional mime, tormenting the audience with improvisational bits.. that’s one of the hardest jobs in the world. It helped when our show producer, a former Ringling Bros clown, advised me one time, “always look the crowd over and ask yourself, what’s wrong with this picture?”

I get Bob Younce and Jamie Grove mixed up all the time. I have Blog Writer’s Dyslexia. Sorry to both parties, tho they’re both terrific, and I would personally think that to confuse one with the other would be a compliment.

@RhodesTer I’ve been waiting patiently for Bob to come and make his comment that you so obviously read after taking Copyblogger’s time traveling class… Now I find out he isn’t coming or that I am him, or… is he me? I’m supposed to be writing his Ode right now and this is turning out to be like my first novel where the main character had a split personality and every reader I had knew it on the first page an groaned through 250 more while I thought was being sneaky and clever.

Actually, it’s quite a compliment to get confused with Bob. We do it on Twitter all the time. 🙂

Great post! I have to agree that funny cannot be acquired by astute study, but that doesn’t mean you can’t win a Nobel prize for trying. That’s the key to effective intellectualism after all, finding a subject no one else wants to study, then mastering it (preferably in Swedish.)

Now I’m just waiting to see your funny in action over in my Twit-Wit competition… I want to see inversion, comic paradox and repetition in 140 characters or less, Jamie.

I had such a wonderful yet thought provoking comment developed, on the psycho-social cause and effect of the afore mentioned verbal applications as related to spontaneous hilarity, then I read ‘mauled by ferrets’ and snorted wine cooler upon my keyboard.

This caused me to (try to)analyse exactly what it was about ferret mauling that struck me as instantly funny. Comedic Paradox, partially. I think that occasionally, the words themselves just sound funny.
Mauled by ferrets. Unexpected, slightly violent, (and non-lethal) bringing visions of face-grabbing, floor rolling yells and frantic ferret face-peeling/flinging, yeah, works for me.

Ok, I read the first part, and I thought it was very well explained.
I don’t want to use this as a workshop, but I’ve got no other way (right now) to pose the following:

Just recently I’ve tried to construct some jokes from thoughts I have.
To prove to myself that I understood what Jamie explained (and I will read the rest now – and give some feedback!), then I thought I’d have a crack at a joke based on the Comedic Paradox.
Can someone tell me if this joke I’ve just constructed, could be funny –
not if it is funny, but does it work:
if not, how do I make it work.

Here’s my effort:
My younger sister is a scientist, but is a bit of a show off about her knowledge
She and wanted to prove correct the Birthday Paradox / Birthday problem
So we tried it out at a party.
She’s the prettiest of all our family, but everyone said they’d never met another triplet with such an ugly temper.

It’s obscure, about the Birhtday Paradox, I know –
so if you don’t find it funny, please tell me why rather than, ‘Stop writing rubbish and get on with your job’ (luckily my job involves a lot of time wasting anyway – so I know that already)
ie – I’m a bit nervous about any response,
thanks, Stu

Stu – for a joke to work the set-up has to give pertinent information a listener needs later when the punch line is introduced. For me this joke needs to give information about the Birthday paradox at the start for it to work. Also, you need to weigh up whether the set-up justifies the pay off. Is the joke worth an audience sitting through to get to the laugh? Once you begin to get a sense of balance about this you’ll find the laughs come easier. All the best with your writing. Tim